


Love Is the Devil

by hana0502



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 13:12:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14569749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hana0502/pseuds/hana0502
Summary: This story is my interpretation of the how the relationship would develop between Joseph Seed and the female deputy after the game ends.





	Love Is the Devil

**Author's Note:**

> Note: This story is my interpretation of the how the relationship would develop between Joseph Seed and the female deputy after the game ends. Actually, this fic originally started as a short(ish) imagine I threw in @deputyrook's ask box as an anon. But apparently even after that, I still couldn’t get this idea out of my head. Deep down, I feel that the characters whom I love so much deserve better than a short story written in a few words. And on top of that deputyrook told me in the ask that she likes the imagines and encourage me to write as well. So here I am, finally crawled out of the shame hole I’ve been hiding in, and decide to write a proper story.
> 
> This is actually the first story I EVER wrote, I must admit that I have never been confident in my own writing skill, as my first language is not English but Chinese. And honestly, reading a fic is much easier than writing one (duh), but both are equally enjoyable. There are so just many talented writers out there, so many beautiful stories they have written, they are so wonderful and inspiring (I wish I could tag them all but I didn’t wish to be a bother), but surly without them I wouldn’t even dream about writing a story not to mention posting it on Tumblr. 
> 
> And by the way, I just couldn’t decide which tense to use while I’m writing this, so if the tense in the story seems confusing to you, I’m sorry, I didn’t do it on purpose. 
> 
> So yeah here we go!

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

The bunker is silent in its own way, albeit the generators rumble tirelessly, machines hum from a distance, and the radio’s occasionally static crackle. The thing is, once you get used to hearing these noises, your brain starts to filter them out, then all there’s left is the deafening silence. It envelopes you, clings to every inch of your skin like it’s going to swallow you whole. It’s in times like these, the deputy grows fond of hearing Joseph’s voice.

 

It’s not necessarily about what he says, the father talks about various of things. He tells her about his search for the voice, his old jobs and co-workers, how they laughed at him or downright despised him for his belief. He tells rook stories about his followers, what made them join Eden’s Gate, how they found forgiveness and purpose through God’s guidance, he even remembered all their names. Most of the time, he talks about trivial matters, like how he did a routine checkup on the machinery, what he found in Dutch’s piled up boxes, how he wanted to rearrange the place. Very rarely he talks about his kin, their life as kids, how they were separated then reunited, and days they spent together at the Seed Ranch. Little things like their favourite food and drink, what TV program they liked to watch together. How faith was leaving muddy footprints on John’s expensive carpet. How Jacob was grumbling because he’s forced to clean up all the ashtray so John would stop nagging. How John would secretly put the food he doesn’t like in Jacob’s plate while he went to grab a cold one from the fridge. Then Joseph would go silent, his eyes would lose focus, like he’s suddenly not here in the bunker, but back on the ranch with his real family. Then when reality hits him, his jaw would clench, his gaze burns her skin, then he would excuse himself and close the door on his way out. Rook knows what’s going on, because through the shut door, she can sometimes hear things smashing or Joseph’s pained whimpering and praying.

 

On those nights, when sleep finally takes a hold of her, nightmares would plague her dream. Sometimes they are straightforward, dream filled with death. She stands in limbo, around her people whispering or yelling, telling her that they had families and lovers to go back home to, but she took it all away. Or the people she couldn’t save, they wail and blame her for her incompetence. These are the nightmares she prefers.

 

Sometimes though, they would begin as sweet dreams, Kim cooking dinner in the kitchen while boomer wagging his tail waiting for food, Nick is walking back and forth in the living room, the little bundle of joy, Rook’s goddaughter, resting peacefully in his arm. The sun is about to set, coating everything in a beautiful golden hue. Nick asks Rook if she wanna hold the baby, she nods, when he carefully places the baby in her arms, the little angel wakes up and giggles. Then the bomb drops, everything around Rook dyed flaming red, then she would wake up drenched in her own sweat.

 

But most of the time, she dreams about that night. The night when she first met the father in person, the night where everything all began. In her dreams, the moon hangs brightly in the sky, the lake lit up by its light like molten silver, in the background is the familiar tone of Amazing Grace, Hudson tells her that she’ll be fine. They open the chapel door, Joseph’s lithe body bathing in the moonlight, casting a long shadow on the wooden floor. They approach him, the marshal causes a ruckus, all of a sudden they are surrounded by Joseph’s followers. Rook can’t see their faces because they have none, all they have are names plastered across where their faces should be, the names Joseph told her about when she’s awake. She looks around and sees the familiar faces of the father’s kin in the crowd, but they are all bruised up like how they were in the last moment of their life. Then Joseph’s arms stretch out toward her, he whispers _“and hell followed with him”._ His gaze pining Rook on the spot, he stares at her like he’s staring into her soul. The rosary wrapped around his wrist dangles, like a clock’s pendulum, ticking down the time she has left. Rook wants to run away, to turn around and leave this chapel behind and to never come back, but her lucid mind is trapped in her body, she has no choice but to watch herself put the cuffs around the father’s wrists. Then everything goes into slow motion, every second stretched into eternity, it freezes her in that moment, behind Joseph, are Faith, Jacob and John’s bloody faces looking at her in mocking smile.

 

When she wakes up from the nightmares, she would be too afraid to go back to sleep. She would stay awake, thinking about her family and friends, regretting everything she had done in the name of righteousness. She craves Joseph’s presence in a sick way, she wants to hear him speak to her, feel his touch on her be it good or bad, but she can’t seek him out, as Rook doesn’t believe Joseph had forgiven her, how can he? She murdered his entire family, after all, she’s the snake in his garden. How can he even bear to look at her when she’s the constant reminder of what he had lost, how can he feel anything for her beyond hatred and disgust? Rook sometimes thinks she should be dead long ago, if not from the helicopter crash, if not from every gunfight she managed to get herself into, then surely she should have died from all the stupid Clutch Nixon stunt she did across the county. But no, she still lives, and her being alive causes death and destruction, pain and suffering.

 

When she can’t even bear to wallow in her self-pity anymore, she would try to distract herself with manual labour. Clean up the empty beer cans and pizza boxes Dutch left behind. Wipe the kitchen top and mop the floor. Tally the food they have, write it down, and rearrange them in neat piles. Go through Dutch’s collection of books, vinyl and DVDs then sort them in alphabetical order.

 

And that’s when the deputy found herself standing in Dutch’s control room, in front of the makeshift ‘target profile’ Dutch had set up, with photos of Joseph’s brothers and sister still pinned on the board. Joseph avoided this room, he moved the radio equipment into the armoury so he doesn’t have to set foot in this room. Rook rips off the notes stuck around their photos first. She balls up the papers, squeezes them so hard that her nails dig into her palm. She thinks about the seed siblings a lot these days since there aren’t many other activities to occupy her time with. They did bad things, they terrorising people, yes, but good and bad are like two sides of a coin, you can’t have one without the other, just like when there’s light then there’s bound to be shadows as well. In the end, They were right all along, peel off the cruel and frantic cultist masks they wore, the Seed sibling are just people, tormented by their past, with extreme measures they tried to do good, to help, and now they are dead. Rook slowly hovers her fingertips over their photos, removing the pins, and gently putting the photos face down in her hand. First Faith, next Jacob, then John. Oh does her chest burn every time she thinks of him, the mark he left on her constantly reminding her of her sins. She keeps it covered during the day so Joseph doesn’t have to see it, but at night, when she’s alone, she sometimes traces her fingers over the scar, lapping each letter. It hurts, though not in a psychical way, but the hurting feels good, and she deserves it, she deserves worse. At last all there is left on the pinboard is the photo of Joseph, she wonders if Joseph would like to have it back, then decides against it.

 

She knocks on the door of the infirmary room, that’s where Joseph sleeps now. He settled in after he finally released her from the cuffs’ restraints, after he believed that she wouldn’t slit his throat at night while he sleeps. Joseph opens the door, him looking at her with those eyes gives her the shivers and Rook feels sick for liking it. She hands over the turned over photos to Joseph.

 

 _“I was cleaning up the control room,”_ she mummers, avoids looking at his eyes, so she stares at her own hand instead. _“And I thought you might wish to keep these.”_

 

Joseph probably knows what she meant, he thanks her, always so polite, she thought, then reaching out with his hand to take the photos, then their fingers touch. She can see that the father visibly flinched, like her touch would taint and rot his flesh. _‘Sinners can do that to you,’_ Rook thought bitterly, and turns to leave before he closes the door.

 

Looking at Rook as she walks away, her back slightly hunched like she’s got some invisible weight dragging her down. Joseph, with photos in his hand, quietly closes the door, then sat back on his bed. She’s getting skinnier every day, Joseph’s thought, her shoulder blades were visible even through Dutch’s loose clothing. He still remembers the first day he saw her, in fact, he remembered it far too well. In the chapel, a beautiful young woman stood right in front of him, moonlight streamed through the window, illuminating her features, coating her in an ethereal glow. Her eyes shone brightly in the dim chapel like stars in the night sky, the idealism and determination in them, so sure of herself, so enchanting. She’s like goddess incarnate, Joseph thought, but turned out she is exactly the opposite.

 

What she did to his family, what she did to him. The chaos she brought, the pain she caused. He should be hating her, he should brand her with all her sins and end her life, he should have offered her to god in that chapel in exchange for his family. But the heat on his fingers, where she touched him, is accusing him of lying. Her hollowed gaze pains him, he saw her zoning out when she watches random movies, the tears streaming down her face stings him. And the memories of him bathing her light the scar on his pelvis on fire. The secret pinning, the urge to protect her, to shield her from everything puts shame in him.

 

Bad dream haunts Joseph that night, him and his kin sit around the dinner table, he thanks the lord for the food during his prayers, then suddenly John grabs his arm so tight like he’s about to break it, he laughs hysterically, mocking him of committing the sin of lust, especially for the devil. Jacob frowns upon him, telling him how disappointed he feels because his brother is weak. Faith just weeps without saying a word. The scrumptious feast on the table begins to rot rapidly, so is John’s hand on his arm, the skin turns dark and peels off, exposing the flesh underneath, then the maggots settle in, gnawing on the meat till it’s worn to the bone. Joseph woke up gasping for air like he was a drowning man.

 

Something dark nestled in his chest, he gets out of the bed, heading towards the deputy’s room. He turns the doorknob, surprised at the unlocked state of the door, and opens it quietly. The lamp on the table lit the room dimly, Joseph stands next to her bed, light casting a shadow over her sleeping face. Her brows are slightly knitted, he knows sometimes nightmares torment her. _‘It’s okay,’_ the voice in his mind whispers to him. _‘You will free her from her misery soon enough.’_

 

Her neck looks so thin, fragile almost, so Joseph warps his hands around her delicate throat. Her survival instinct must’ve kicked in, the moment Joseph started squeezing her neck, both of her hands clamped down on his wrists. Joseph can see fear in her still hooded eyes, he can feel her heartrate picking up. But then when she realizes what’s going on, her grip loosens, she stares at Joseph, then she closes her eyes.

 

Rook woke up seeing a dark shadowy figure standing next to her bed, hands wrapped around her neck, she panicked until she realised whom those hands belong to. The father had finally decided on what to do with her, him alone is her judge, jury and executioner. She closes her eyes, embracing her final moment. In the end, what more is there to look forward to, than his hands bringing her the death she deserves?

 

Joseph stares at Rook’s face, her long and dark eyelashes flutter like wings on a butterfly, her lips slightly parted, but she’s smiling. It’s the first time Joseph saw her smile, and it hits him like a ton of bricks. From the corner of his eye, he saw that picture of him, peaking out from underneath her pillow. That’s when he stopped. All of a sudden he realises, she is his victim just as he is hers. Let her be the devil, let her bring hell, let her be his.

 

The father loosens his grip, his hands reaching up, touching her jawline, Rook opens her eyes, they are teary from the suffocation, she’s so confused and she looks so beautiful. Joseph, whose thumb lightly brushes over her parted lips, slowly bends down, putting his lips on hers. Rook’s arms snake around his shoulder, holding him so tight like a drowning man clutches at a straw, and she kisses him back with such fire, it burns him and he loves every second of it.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, that’s how the story ends, I’d like to write more, but my fountain of imagination is so dry right now I just can’t think of what to write. 
> 
> I want to thank you for reading my fic, and if there’s anything you would like to say to me please please please let me know, I would love nothing more than your honest opinion! If you wish to discuss with me about anything Far Cry 5 related please do. I’m so thirsting for daddy Joseph right now my head is filled with smut. And I love Jacob and Faith as well, they are both my precious baby. And John, oh boy, he is one sick puppy isn’t he, I love him so much that I wish to be abused by him mentally and sexually. 
> 
> My Tumblr is: purringhelpsmesleep


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